


A Bottle of Courvoisier

by WhySoSeven



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Oneshot, Pre-Relationship, Take my trash, alastor has a tail, alcohol use, drunk alastor, fluffy snuggles, gore mention, inspiration from one of the streams, radiodust - Freeform, sober angel dust, this is no longer a oneshot, this is so self indulgant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:41:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21673123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhySoSeven/pseuds/WhySoSeven
Summary: Angel Dust stumbles upon a very drunk Alastor. Rated M for gore mention and language.
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 110
Kudos: 1264





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a radiodust discord server I joined. These hellions will be the death of me I swear. This hasn't been beta read so excuse the choppiness.

Alastor liked cognac. 

Alastor liked  _ fucking cognac _ .

Angel Dust would have never in a million years guessed that as Alastor's drink of choice. The blood of the innocent maybe, but not cognac. Not alcohol period. He was always so composed, so cold and calculated, that when he stumbled upon the radio demon nursing an empty bottle of Courvoisier at the hotel bar he was too shocked to even comment. Husker was nowhere to be seen, and Alastor was…

Well, to put it lightly, Alastor was plastered.

He didn't realize that at first, though. Alastor had his arms up on the bar and his face nestled in the crook of his elbow, like he was trying to take a nap. Angel Dust really just wanted to keep walking, but something stopped him. Something wasn't right.

"Al?" No response. "Hey, Alastor. You alright there, pal?" 

Alastor made a sound that was a mix between a hum and radio static. Well, at least it was a response. Angel Dust leaned against the bar and tried to peek at Alastor's face, making sure to keep his distance. He didn't need to lose an arm just because he was caught being soft and doing something stupid. Really, really stupid.

"Alastor? Heh, you're not nappin' on the job, are you? Cause I don't think Charlie would-- WHOA!"

Angel Dust yelped as a lanky arm was thrown over his shoulders, Alastor pulling him down so their cheeks were pressed together. "Angel Dust, my good man! I was wondering when you would saunter my way!"

"You, uh, ya were…?" Angel Dust did not miss the flush in Alastor's cheeks and the scent of alcohol on his breath.

"Well of course I was! I've been starved of your company!" Alastor nuzzled his cheek, voice crackling with uncontrolled static. "That was quite cruel of you, my fellow, quite cruel indeed."

" _ You _ . Wanted to spend time with  _ me. _ " Angel Dust's tone was as dry as the bottom of Alastor's bottle. "Okay, now I  _ know  _ you're wasted. Why don't we, uh, why don't we get you to your room, yeah? Before anyone sees you like this and you murder me when you sober up."

"Oh, buy my  _ dear  _ Angel Dust, why would I ever do that?" Alastor looked at him with laughable innocence.

Angel Dust grabbed Alastor around the waist and hoisted him out of his chair. Luckily having extra arms made guiding drunk murder machines all the easier. "Uh, 'cause ya hate me? 'Cause I'm too flirty, and ya think I'm gross, and the only reason ya haven't killed me yet is it would be a PR nightmare for the hotel?"

Much to Angel Dust’s surprise, Alastor didn’t even hesitate to lean against him. The warmth radiating from the radio demon  _ should _ have been concerning, but Angel Dust had never really gotten close enough to him to know whether or not this was normal. For right now it was probably best to just ignore it. Luckily, Alastor’s room was just down the hall so he wouldn’t have to risk his hide for  _ too _ long. He started walking, Alastor’s stumbling footsteps sounding beside his.

Alastor’s smile faded a bit, though not completely. In truth, Angel Dust had never seen him without it. “Oh that’s not true, not true at all! I quite like you, you know.”

Angel Dust snorted. Yeah, Alastor was definitely drunk off his ass. “Oh yeah? Since when?”

“Since…” Alastor paused, pursing his lips a bit. “Well, since never I suppose.” The grin came back full force, and he looked up at Angel Dust with a level of enthusiasm usually reserved for schemes and carnage. “But I like you very much right now! What a wonderful friend you are, braving the spinning hallways just to get me to my room!”

“They’re only spinning for you, pal.” Angel Dust stopped at Alastor’s door. “Speaking of your room, we’re here so I’ll just leave you to i--”

“Oh nonsense!” Alastor shoved the door open and dragged Angel Dust inside with a strength that would have been very useful during the walk over. “Come in, come in! I could use the company you know.”

Angel Dust did his best to stop himself from being dragged into the room, but Alastor was stronger than he expected. Well, at least he had tried. “I mean, if you insist I guess.” He glanced around the room, taking note of the red and black decor. Not many surprises there. It was simpler than he expected, his only furniture being a wardrobe, dresser, bed, and nightstand. A small, old-timey radio sat on the dresser and a lamp rested on the nightstand. But the bed,  _ oh _ the bed, it made even Angel Dust jealous. Black pillows, a black, plush comforter, and red sheets. Were those silk? If they were… well, that had implications. 

He briefly wondered how painful his death would be tomorrow when Alastor was sobered up. 

“Oh but I do!” The garbled static pulled Angel Dust from his thoughts. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

Angel Dust glanced around the room once again. “Yeah, Al, I don’t know if ya noticed, but you don’t got any chairs.”

“No, but the bed will do just fine.” As if to emphasize his point, Alastor sat on the edge of the bed and patted the spot next to him.

“Ah-ha, ya know, I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” Angel Dust said with a nervous smile, taking a small step backwards. He liked keeping his arms  _ on _ his body, and he was sure he’d have more than enough to answer for in the morning as it was. That was, if Alastor even remembered this. He was pretty toasted. “I think I’m gonna head back ta my room, but thanks for the invite. Really.”

Angel Dust was not  _ at all _ prepared for what came next.

Alastor’s smile faded. In its entirety. He looked  _ horribly _ disappointed, so much so that his ears actually pressed back. Angel Dust had never seen them move before, he was almost convinced they weren’t actually ears but just immobile tufts of hair. Alastor glanced down, his disappointment reflecting in his tone in a way that made Angel Dust’s heart ache. “Ah, yes, I… I suppose this  _ is _ awfully imposing. Expecting you to stay when I’m sure you have somewhere else to be, and I  _ have _ been less than kind to you in the past.”

“Exactly!” Angel Dust said, a tad too eagerly. “So I should probably go, and I…” He trailed off, taking in the heartbreaking expression on Alastor’s face. A demon famous for carnage should  _ not _ be able to pull off puppy eyes. “...oh God damn it.  _ Fine _ .”

Angel Dust didn’t miss the way Alastor perked up when he sat next to him, both sets of arms crossed. “But I want booze, ya hear me? I’m not doing this sober.”

“Oh but of course!” The grin was back, a glimmer of excitement lighting up Alastor’s eyes. “What’s your poison? I’m sure I can come up with  _ something _ that’s to your liking.”

“I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say somethin’ sweet is a bit much for ya right now,” Angel Dust mused. He considered a moment before speaking again. “Ya know what? I’ll take whisky. It’ll be like old times.”

Alastor snapped and Angel Dust was holding a bottle of Whisky. Well, wasn’t that just nifty. “Old times, you say? Was this your drink of choice?”

“Choice is a strong word.” Angel Dust uncapped the bottle and took a swig, the liquor burning his throat like a trail of fire.

Alastor’s smile turned inquisitive. “If you don’t like it, then why do you drink it?”

Angel Dust shrugged, taking another sip. Damn that was strong. “Habit. Ya gotta look tough when you’re in the mafia, ya know? Tough guys don’t drink frou-frou stuff.”

Alastor’s brows arched in surprise. “The  _ mafia _ ?  _ You _ ?”

Angel Dust sighed. This motherfucker. “I swear, you gotta be the  _ one _ person in hell who don’t know. Yeah, I was a mobster before I died. That was my whole schtick. Just ‘cause Val don’t let me out on jobs doesn’t mean I don’t still got it.”

“The mafia…” Alastor mused, vacant stare drawn to his empty bottle. “I suppose, then, you have  _ quite _ the body count.”

“What?” Angel Dust glanced over, taken off guard by the question. “Uh… yeah, I mean, I’ve killed people. Why?”

Alastor hummed, taking a sip from the now not empty bottle. When did that happen? “I supposed I just never pegged you for the type is all.”

“Not sure if I should be flattered or offended,” Angel Dust snorted.

“Probably both.” Alastor’s smile had a hint of fondness that Angel Dust wasn’t ready for. “Honestly, it’s an appealing thought.”

Angel Dust cocked a brow. “What, me killin’ people?”

Alastor nodded. “Quite. It was my specialty, after all.”

“Oh yeah?” Angel Dust took another swig, this one a bit longer. The soft haze of intoxication was beginning to mask the bitter tang of his drink. “Vaggie told me ya caused a lot of demons a lot of trouble. Blood and carnage and all that.”

“No no, not  _ here _ ,” Alastor waved him off, then paused. “...well,  _ yes _ here, but that’s not what I was talking about. In life, I mean.”

Angel Dust froze mid-drink. In  _ life _ ? He put the bottle down and swallowed, glancing over at Alastor’s thoughtful expression. He could be wrong, but that one little tidbit of information was probably more than anyone else in the history of hell had ever gotten from the infamous radio demon. He was “shrouded in mystery”, as Vaggie had told him several times. “That, uh… that so?”

“Oh yes.” Alastor took another sip, wavering a bit. A responsible drinking partner would have taken his Courvoisier away and given him some water by now, as he was clearly drunk enough. Good thing he was with Angel Dust. “I was quite the prolific serial killer in my day. Sooo many bodies…”

Angel Dust found himself frozen, transfixed by the information he was being given and silently praying for Alastor to continue. Any insight to the enigma that was the radio demon was more than welcome. “That uh… that so?”

“Oh yes.” Alastor traced the pad of his thumb around the rim of his bottle, lost in his own thoughts. “Especially in the 20s. You know, you can read all the anatomy books you’d like, but nothing will  _ ever _ teach you so much as having a corpse right in front of you.”

“...oh yeah?” Angel Dust was now wondering if he should have drank more to prepare for this conversation, because if Alastor admitted he was a necrophiliac he was going to lose his shit.

Alastor took another sip out of his bottle before nodding. “Believe me, I would know. For example, did you know that the eyes don’t close on their own, and if you attempt to force them they just open again? Or that the blood will pool to whatever side you leave the body on?” A dangerous smile played on his lips at the memories. “Or that the dead can sit straight up due to a misfire of nerves, very much startling the poor, unsuspecting serial killer chopping them to bits?”

Angel Dust felt himself relax a bit. Okay, not a necrophiliac, just a psycho. He could work with that. “Huh. I knew the eye thing, but not the other stuff. Got any other weird shit to share?”

Alastor looked up at him, absolutely delighted at his interest. “Oh, I most certainly do! I do hope you don’t have anywhere to be, because I could talk about this  _ all night _ .”

Angel Dust let out a light laugh, setting his bottle down. No, he wanted to be  _ sober _ for this. Or, at least as sober as he could be with what he already had. Alastor getting excited about someone listening to his weird-ass anatomy facts was oddly adorable, which was not something Angel Dust ever thought he would ever use to describe Alastor. “Go ahead, lay it on me.”

-xxx-

When Alastor said all night, he wasn’t kidding. Angel Dust glanced at the pocket watch Alastor had discarded onto the nightstand some time before. He groaned when he saw that it was just after four in the morning. Knowing Charlie, she was going to be getting him up bright and early. That would give him maybe a few hours of sleep, if he was lucky and could actually fall asleep fairly quickly. 

That was, if he could even make it to his room.

Alastor had slumped over and passed out a few moments prior. That in of itself wasn’t all that strange, he had been more that drunk enough to pass out. If anything, with how many times Angel Dust suspected he had refilled that bottle of Courvoisier, he should have been out much sooner. No, the predicament Angel Dust found himself in had to do with  _ where _ Alastor had passed out. Angel Dust was currently trapped, with Alastor clinging to his waist and nuzzling his shoulder. He wasn’t sure how exactly he should handle this. The smart thing to do would probably be to gently wake Alastor up, get him off, and pray that he didn’t remember any of it in the morning as he made his way to his own room. However, Alastor was surprisingly warm, and  _ oh _ so comfortable…

A soft murmur caught his attention and Angel Dust looked down, just in time to catch Alastor mumbling in his sleep and a faint, genuine smile playing across his lips. Whatever he was dreaming about, one thing was for sure. He was  _ damn _ adorable, and Angel Dust would hate to disturb him. 

Well, shit. It looked like his mind was made up for him.

Angel Dust carefully lowered both of them so they were lying down, thanking any deity above that he had somehow managed to do so without waking Alastor. He shifted just a moment to get comfortable before relaxing a soft sigh. Yeah, okay, this was nice. Angel Dust closed his eyes, and let himself bask in this temporary moment of bliss. 

He could worry about the consequences later. For now, for this moment, it was worth it.


	2. A Morning After Courvoisier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastor wakes up to find Angel Dust in his bed. He's not too thrilled about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this was supposed to be a one-shot, but y'all are demanding and I am weak so here's the continuation. Enjoy Alastor's panic.

Alastor awoke to a knocking on his door. 

He was vaguely aware of the fact that he was in his room. He assumed it was his room? His head was pounding far too much for him to open his eyes to check, but these certainly felt like his silk sheets. However, it felt as though he had somehow acquired a new, fluffy pillow that was  _ exceptionally _ soft. He briefly wondered how much he had to drink last night to warrant such pain and lack of memory.

Far more than he intended, that much he was sure of.

It took a moment before he registered that the pain in his head was partially due to the insistant knocking at his door. Right, yes, that was still there.

“Alastor! It’s Charlie!”

Oh. Hell no.

“Charlie, my dear, I am a tad pre-occupied at the moment!” 

“I was just coming to see where you were. We had a meeting scheduled today at nine, and it’s not like you to not show up!”

Oh, so he had missed the meeting. Although he knew it was important, he couldn't bring himself to care right this moment. “My sincerest apologies, only a slight hiccup! I’ll be sure to make it to the next one, but for now I would appreciate my privacy!” His privacy, and the softness of this new pillow. Was it strawberry scented?

“If you say so.” The concern in Charlie’s voice was impossible to miss, but she was nothing if not compliant. “There’s food in the kitchen when you’re ready for it, I’ll tell Nifty to keep it warm for you.”

He didn’t bother to listen for her fading footsteps, but he was sure she had gone. He groaned and nuzzled the pillow, pulling it a tad closer. It had some definite weight to it, more so than he expected. With his arms wrapped around it he realized that it was surprisingly thin, and was that… bone?

Pillows didn’t have bones. 

His eyes snapped open and he was blinded with a face full of fluffy, white fur.

Oh no.

He pulled back in shock, greeted with the sight of a sleeping Angel Dust. The top few buttons of his blazer were open, but otherwise he was surprisingly decent. Even his boots and gloves were still in place. He was lounging back on the pillows, his upper arms tucked back behind his head and his lower arms wrapped around Alastor. An empty bottle of courvoisier rested sideways on the floor, next to a mostly full bottle of whisky. 

Oh  _ no _ .

The sound of radio static filled the room. How  _ dare _ he. How dare Angel Dust use his vulnerable, drunken state to worm his way into Alastor’s bed. How dare he lie here, asleep,  _ snuggling _ in Alastor’s silk sheets, as if he had any right to do so. The static slowly melded into a high pitch ringing, fury bubbling in Alastor’s stomach as his eyes turned to radio dials. He was going to gut Angel Dust like a fish. He was going to rip his insides out and fillet him before roasting him over--

Oh, no. Nevermind. He was going to lean into the very pleasant scratching behind his antlers, his eyes rolling back just a bit. A shudder wracked down his spine, going all the way down to his well-concealed tail and making it twitch. Oh, oh yes, that was wonderful. A soft whine escaped his lips as gloved fingers brushed against the base of his antlers before pulling away, petting the back of his hair a couple of times before the touch was gone completely and he was able to blink himself back into focus. Well,  _ that _ was new. His gaze flicked up to Angel Dust’s face, searching for any sign of consciousness. No, Angel Dust had definitely done that in his sleep, his steady breathing and ever so soft snores not so much as faltering. 

This left Alastor with some things to consider, now that his initial rage had subsided.

Angel Dust had taken him up to his room, and had  _ not _ taken advantage of him. This much was clear in how much clothing they were both still wearing, the only items Alastor was missing were his jacket and tie. Alastor was also aware that he could be a much more…  _ agreeable _ person after he had been drinking, so Angel Dust still being there may have been entirely his own fault. As if that were not enough, there was also the fact that the position he had woken up in wasn’t exactly all that unpleasant. In fact, if he were honest with himself, he didn’t particularly want to move. After a moment of hesitation he rested his head back on Angel Dust’s chest, letting the excess fluff engulf him. This here was what he wanted, the rhythmic sound of steady breathing and a slow heartbeat against his sensitive ear, lulling him into security and easing his headache. Being hungover was an acceptable excuse for allowing Angel Dust to remain in place, right? Yes, of course. Pain was clouding his judgement, he couldn’t be expected to make any  _ reasonable _ decisions. He could worry about all of that when he awoke, when his body was more agreeable and his line of thinking more sound.

As Alastor felt sleep claim him a second time, he briefly wondered why anyone bothered paying Angel Dust for such filthy services when they could just pay him to act as a wonderfully fluffy pillow. Had Alastor’s pride not been on the line, he would consider doing so himself now that he had experienced how comfortable the spider demon could be. He supposed that was something to think about when he was more coherent. But for now, for this moment, he was content to let Angel Dust’s warmth radiate through his body, lulling him into a blissful slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, that's all folks! I won't be adding any more to this, for real this time. HOWEVER, I may make a series where this is referenced so stay tuned!


End file.
